


restraint

by kittenscully



Series: fictober 2020 [26]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: (or is it actually HIS turn), Banter, Dom Dana Scully, Episode: s07e14 Theef, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, it's her turn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenscully/pseuds/kittenscully
Summary: She hadn’t expected any of this. The softness in his eyes, the coiled patience. His hands held stiffly at his sides, as if ready for hours more of teasing. As if waiting to be told which way to go.[fictober day 26]
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: fictober 2020 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949467
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	restraint

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Did I ask?"

In the car, he’s visibly uncomfortable, flushed all the way down his neck. Lips pressed together too tightly, every muscle stiff.

“Mulder,” she says, keeping her eyes on the map. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” 

His throat bobs. Scully hides a smile. 

“Just fine,” he says, roughly. 

Smothering a laugh with a cough, she reaches over to rub Mulder’s thigh, appreciating the wounded noise he makes at her touch. 

And she isn’t doing it to tease him, but she isn’t _not_ doing for that reason, either. 

Just inches away from her fingers, the thick ridge of his erection bulges in his slacks, even the spacious cut of them not enough to disguise his evident arousal. For years, she’d subtly eyed his lap and wondered about the dimensions of him. Needless to say, satisfying that particular curiosity hasn’t done anything to make her stop staring.

She imagines the feel of him under her touch, hot and stiff, the choked sound he’d make if she squeezed him firmly through the fabric. But he’s driving, so she elects to wait.

It’s not as if she hasn’t gotten her hands on him today already, and several times, at that. 

In the plane this morning, under a thin blanket, his jaw vice tight as he throbbed under her palm. In an empty room in the mansion where a man had just died, his head tilted back, throat temptingly exposed. 

And between those two incidents, in his hotel room upon arrival, where it’d been more than just her hands. The sight of him from below, her on her knees with their suitcases on either side. The length of his cock, tall and proud and angry. The painful restraint of him, hands balled up at his sides, trying so hard to stay still with her lips wrapped around his crown. 

The way his pupils had dilated with arousal when she’d gotten to her feet and tucked him, still hard, back into his boxers. 

A kiss to the corner of his mouth, her hand on the back of his neck to pull him down to eye level. A smirk, and a murmur of _Be good_ as she’d buttoned up his slacks. 

Oh, he’d been enamored. 

All day, at the airport and the crime scene and the lab, he’d been enamored. Even wincing and teased half to death. _You keep me guessing,_ he’d said, and she’d known he was talking about far more than hexcraft.

Of course Scully can’t help teasing him more. Not when he likes it so much, and not when it makes her so wet herself.

“I see you haven’t been thinking chilly thoughts,” she comments. 

“You really gonna keep that up?” 

“Keep what up?”

“Scully,” he grits out. “If my balls were any bluer, I’d be calling Ripley’s Believe it or Not.”

This time, she can’t stifle her snort. He never loses his ability to make bad jokes. 

“You did ask for it,” she says, shrugging innocently. And he had, only last week, confessing with his head pillowed on her stomach to all of his fantasies involving scenarios just like this one. He just hadn’t expected her to follow through. “As I recall, you practically gave me the keys to the kingdom.” 

“That’s not how I remember it.”

Mulder’s expression is guilty, and they both know that he’s lying. She’ll forgive it, though. It’s not as if she’s admitted out loud to wanting all of the things he’s done to her at her implicit request. 

“Well, I’ll check you for head trauma later.”

He gives her a look, and she suppresses a grin. 

“That’s not the part of me you’ve traumatized. Believe it or not.”

They’re at a stoplight, probably no more than five minutes from the hotel. Her hand is still resting on his thigh, and she can’t resist reaching further, reasoning that there’s no risk of any catastrophe. 

When she palms his crotch, he squeaks, going stiff as a board. 

“Scully,” he warns. 

“Hm?”

“I’m driving.”

“No, you’re not.” 

“I will be in less than a minute,” he protests. 

“Then I’ll stop in less than a minute,” she says evenly. “I wouldn’t advise you try to argue now, considering your current position.”

“But you’re… ” His voice cracks, and the column of his throat wound tight as steel. “I’m not sure I can handle anymore.”

Slowly, she cups the heavy bulk of him, feels her way along his length as his jaw tenses beautifully.

“Did I ask?”

“ _Fuck_.”

Under her hand, he twitches, and she suspects that he’s leaking, that she’ll find the evidence when she strips him down shortly. 

She suspects, too, that he’ll make even more of a mess when she comments on it. 

She tries not to give much thought to it, how hard he gets at the slightest hint of humiliation. She wouldn’t lean into it if he hadn’t asked, and if she hadn’t thought that taking on that role every so often might help to fix some of the parts of him that other women had damaged. 

A rewiring, she figures. And it’s turned out very fun for them both so far. 

“You respond so well to this,” Scully observes, keeping her tone almost disinterested. “I suppose it’s hardly a surprise, considering how many people could see how desperate you are.” 

“Scully,” he manages.

“I’ll have to look into it further in the future,” she muses. “I’m sure you could keep your eyes on the road if you were told to, couldn’t you? Behave yourself?”

There’s a long moment where he stares into space. Shocked into silence, mouth open and gasping. 

Then, the light changes, and she lets him go with a final squeeze. 

The car jumps into motion, rocketing forwards at a speed that she’s sure is well above the local limit. Beside her, he is rigid from head to toe. 

Crossing her hands in her lap, she keeps her eyes straight ahead, and contemplates what will happen in a few minutes when they arrive. The way she sees it, the whole scenario will go one of two ways. 

And while the idea of having him utterly weakened and at her beck and call is surprisingly arousing, part of her is secretly hoping to be pinned down and fucked within an inch of her life.

In the parking lot, Mulder walks stiffly, long frame wracked with pent up energy. He doesn’t look at her, not even once they’re standing in front of his room door. She runs her palm lightly over his forearm as he unlocks it, and the muscle in his jaw jumps.

As soon as they’re inside, she braces herself for being pushed against something. To her surprise, though, it doesn’t happen. They shed their coats in silence, and Scully flicks on the lights, wondering when or even if the other shoe will drop. 

But instead, he turns to face her, expression wide open if a little bit anguished. 

She hadn’t expected any of this. The softness in his eyes, the coiled patience. His hands held stiffly at his sides, as if ready for hours more of teasing. As if waiting to be told which way to go.

All of it takes her by surprise. 

“Mulder,” she says, barely more than a murmur. 

“Yeah?” 

The vulnerability in his voice makes her want, desperately, to take care of him. She isn’t a sadist, not by a long shot, and she’d told him so. She isn’t inclined to take control and keep it, either. And she’d told him that, too. 

But Mulder is so gorgeous like this, straight-spined and suggestible, completely hers. So comfortable, so unbearably trusting. The appeal of keeping her hold over him is undeniable, and she knows that it’s what he wants. 

Counterintuitive as it seems, she understands. After all, even though her own submissive impulses look very different than his, they’re still very much present, and he’s indulged them at every opportunity.

Her resolve strengthens. Like anything else, she can do this for him.

Calmly, she takes a step towards him, pushes his suit jacket off of his shoulders. His tie is next, loosened methodically and set aside. She starts on his buttons, keeping her gaze firmly on her hands and her expression neutral as she works, even as his breath catches. 

Finally looking at his face, she reaches up to cup his cheek. Offers him a small smile, one last check-in. Immediately, he smiles back, and turns his head to kiss her palm reassuringly. 

“Take off your undershirt,” Scully orders, coolly, and the moment is gone.

He does, and she unfastens his belt, and then his slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers to leave him completely bare. 

There’s a lot to appreciate in the view, from the defined lines of his chest and abdomen to his cock, steely and flushed, and pointing ever so slightly up at her. 

She has the familiar impulse to sink to her knees, but she staves it off, settling for wrapping her hand around him and giving him a few quick pumps, lubricated by his own precum, as he gasps.

“On the bed,” she tells him.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mulder says, warmly, and it’s just teasing enough to make her relax. 

She sheds her own clothing quickly, and turns back to see him on his back, propping himself up with his elbows and staring. As she lifts an eyebrow, he drops back down, looking almost guilty at being caught, as if he isn’t buck naked and desperately hard after nearly a day’s worth of teasing. 

The wetness between her thighs is far more profuse than she’d realized, busy as she’d been focusing on him. She debates, briefly, sitting on his face, knowing that he’d love that.

But the sight of his erection, glistening temptingly against his stomach, is too much to resist. 

Straddling him on the bed, she sinks down onto his shaft, nestling it between her labia. The hiss he lets out is agonized, and he balls his hands into fists, tight at his sides. 

“You know, it’s remarkable,” she says. 

“What is?” He manages.

“The male capacity for restraint.”

She’d never thought that she was very good at this part, the talking. Always too stiff, too clinical. Too detached and formal. But by some lucky coincidence, those things are exactly what seems to get him off. 

As she starts to rock her hips, sliding slowly across the length of him, he groans, eyes rolling back in his head. 

“So many men would have us believe that they can’t resist, that they have animalistic urges that need to be fulfilled,” Scully continues, working to keep her tone level even as the heat builds in her stomach. “Urges to mate, or to possess. To _fuck._ They convince themselves, and their partners, that they just can’t wait or sacrifice control, no matter the circumstances. What was it that you said? ‘Blue balls’?”

He nods, furiously. She runs a hand up his chest, cupping his throat gently and feeling it bob beneath her palm. 

“But that’s not true, is it, Mulder?”

Almost instantaneously, he shakes his head, and she finds herself shaking hers in agreement. 

“Not true at all,” she says. “Just look at you, for example.” 

She’s still grinding slowly against his hardness, and the thrumming heat swirling in her belly has made her voice raspier, significantly less detached. Under her other hand, his abdomen is tensed, his arms rippling with the effort of staying still. 

“You’re resisting. You’ve sacrificed control. You’re being good.” She leans closer, meets his eyes. “And, judging by your reactions, you _like_ it like this.”

At that, Mulder practically whimpers, twisting a little under her. Gently, she rubs her thumb across the side of his throat, just a reminder of who’s in control. 

“Don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he gasps. “Yes, I like it.”

The surge of victory makes her even slicker, limbs growing heavy with arousal. Maybe with more practice, she’ll be able to suppress her own desires further, but for now, she’s the one who can’t wait.

Rising up onto her knees, she lines him up with her entrance, and finally sinks down onto his cock. 

She isn’t sure which of them lets out the louder moan. He’s hot and huge inside of her, and she’s so tight after a day of clenching and biting her lip, ignoring her own burgeoning need in favor of toying with him. It takes a long moment before she can gather herself enough to look back to his face, blinking away the tears that have gathered in the corners of her eyes at the stretch. 

Through the haze of moisture, Scully makes out his crumpled brow, his heaving chest and slack mouth, and her gut twists in desire. If she could reach his lips, she would kiss him. 

But as it is, she settles for starting a lazy rhythm, back and forth, back and forth, until the girth of him is easier to manage.

The movement doesn’t do much more than shift him inside, and it’s certainly not enough friction to tip him over the edge, especially not with how slowly she’s worked him up.

“Sc-Scully,” he pants. “I – I need –”

“I know,” she husks thickly, dipping her head to place a kiss on his chest, pouting up at him a little. “You’ve been waiting a long time, and you need it.” 

When he nods, she thumbs across his nipple, keeping the same steady pace even as his fists clench in the blankets. With the right pressure on her clit, she could easily come like this, and she decides that she just might. 

“But I think you can wait awhile longer, if you’re told to.”


End file.
